


Rich Guys Can't Marry Poor Girls

by LadyFogg



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Bondage, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Language, Light Spanking, Minecraft Ryan, NSFW, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Roughness, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, mad king au, minecraft au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-14 22:22:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3427682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyFogg/pseuds/LadyFogg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s the ruler of Achievement City and you’re the girl hired to “entertain” him on the night of his birthday. However, when you express your desire not to go through with it, you see a softer side of the king no one else has ever seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The room is extravagant.

When you were summoned to the palace, you assumed you were going to be led to some small back room where you would complete your transaction and be sent on your way. You don’t have a lot of experience with how this line of work operates, but you’ve been trained enough to know what to expect. At least you thought you had.

You slowly walk over to stand by the window. Snow is beginning to fall outside and for once you’re grateful to be inside the large, warm room.

They made sure you were well fed, bathed and properly groomed. You must be waiting on someone important. Perhaps a commander of the royal guard, or a duke visiting from a distant land. You let your mind wander with fantasies of a young prince coming to sweep you off your feet and carry you away from all of this.

But the smile that forms on your face immediately fades, because the reality of the situation it too harsh to let you dream for long.

You’re poor and sold yourself to a brothel. There’s really only one way this evening is going to go.

You hear voices approaching the door and immediately turn to face it, straightening your back so your chest is thrust forward and your shoulders are back. You nervously adjust the bodice of your gown, an extravagant expensive thing that is too tight in the top and too poufy at the bottom.

“As far as parties go, there have been more boring ones,” a deep, commanding voice sounds from the other side of the door.

“You didn’t enjoy yourself?” another asks.

“Geoff, it was just a party,” the first voice says.

“It wasn’t just a party, it was _your_ birthday party,” Geoff says. “And you barely drank at all.”

“I’m running a country, I don’t have the luxury of getting drunk,” the other man says.

“You still deserve to unwind, have a little fun, maybe get laid…” Geoff says.

The other man lets out a deep chuckle. “That’s your solution to everything,” he says. He’s silent for a moment. “Why did you insist on walking with me?”

“I got you a little present,” Geoff says.

The silence between the two is almost deafening. Inside the room, you’re beginning to get increasingly warm as your nerves start to spike. It can’t be. Can it? You try not to fidget, but suddenly the room isn’t big enough and the walls feel like they’re closing in on you.

You want to run. You wish you could run. Anything to prevent what you know is coming next.

“Geoff, you didn’t.” All joking is gone from the man’s voice and he suddenly sounds angry.

“You’re damn right I did,” Geoff says, seemingly unphased. “Going to pay a large price too. Enjoy.”

The sound of footsteps fade away and you hold your breath, waiting for the door to open. The knob turns slowly and you nervously adjust your dress again.

When he steps into the room, it takes all your willpower not to show the surprise you are so obviously feeling. With shaking hands to you gently take the sides of your dress and kneel down in a formal curtsy. “Happy birthday, your majesty.”

The Mad King’s expression is hard to read as he closes the bedroom door behind him, his eyes never leaving your face. You break your eye contact with him, bowing your head. As you straighten yourself, you hear him take a few steps towards you. “Do you know why you’re here?” he asks sharply.

You nod. “Y-yes.” You clear your throat. “I mean, yes, my lord.”

“It’s rude not to look at someone when you’re speaking to them.”

Your eyes immediately snap up to meet his. “Of course, my lord! Where are my manners? Please, forgive me…”

He puts a hand up and you immediately stop your stammering, cursing yourself for being so stupid and reckless. You’re not only in the presence of the king, but you’re going to be servicing him. The least you can do is look at him. You’re startled to realize how close he’s standing, and how _handsome_ he is. You’ve never been so close to him before.

You’re seen him from afar, riding past the village on his way to the palace, or the few times you attended court for one reason or another. But you’ve never noticed how blue his eyes are. They are searching your face for something, though you’re not sure exactly what. You make sure to keep your head up and your back straight as he takes in your appearance.

When he doesn’t say anything further, you exhale and ask softly, “Are you pleased, your grace? I-I can have them send someone else if I’m not to your preference…”

“No, no one else,” the Mad King says almost instantly. He takes a deep breath before stepping away from you. He walks over to the corner of the room where a chest of drawers sits, a velvet pillow placed squarely in the center. The king reaches up and removes the crown from atop his head, placing it on the pillow with the utmost care. “Come help me undress.”

You are trembling, but you force your stiff legs to move. With each steps towards him, you push your nerves away, burying them deep down inside. Your hands are shaking as you reach to help him remove his cloak.

“I can tell you were surprised to see me when I came through the door,” the King says casually, working to remove the many layers his formalwear has.

“It’s an honor to be able to service our king,” you say automatically.

Your practiced tone doesn’t go unnoticed. “Was that something you were trained to say?” he asks, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“Yes,” you tell him truthfully. “What would you like me to say?”

“What’s on your mind, would be nice,” he says. You help him out of his tunic and he steps out of his thick boots. When his hands move to undo the ties of his pants, your hands still and you take a step back. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. He strips before you and you try hard not to blush. He turns to face you and his hands come out to work the ties of your dress.

With trembling hands, you move to help him and he rids you of the heavy fabric. You discreetly toe out of your shoes. Your dress drops to the floor and pools around your feet so all you’re wearing is your corset. You don’t have smalls, as it’s standard for women in your position to go without. His eyes darken lustfully as he takes your hand and leads you over to the bed.

He barely gives you a moment to lay back before he’s climbing up with you, crawling over your shaking body.

Your heart starts to race and you’re having a hard time catching your breath. Once again you can’t meet his gaze and you find yourself crossing your arms over your chest. The corset does little to cover anything and you’re self consciousness gets the best of you. When he lays his body over you, your hands immediately come up to push on his shoulders. He notes the resistance but knocks your hands out of the way, leaning down to kiss you.

You turn your face and his lips find your cheek. He doesn’t seem to mind as his mouth travels down to feast on your neck. It feels amazing, but that doesn’t stop you from trembling harder with nerves. You can’t do this. This wasn’t what you wanted to do with your life. You can’t sell your body. You thought you could, but now that you’re here, now that you’re with the king…  

You shrink away from him, your whole body tensing. This time he stops and draws back. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I can’t do this,” you whisper.

He doesn’t hear you. “What was that?” he asks in a firm voice.

“I can’t do this, your grace. I’m sorry.” You push him away and are surprised when he relents, rolling off of you. You scramble to sit on the edge of the bed, your legs too unsteady to allow you to stand.

“Have you never done this before?” the King inquires.

You expect him to sound angry or annoyed, but he doesn’t. His voice is softer than it was a moment ago and it seems to have lost its sharpness. You remain sitting on the edge of the bed, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. You want to run but you are nearly naked and have no where to go. The room is warm, but you can’t stop shaking. “No. Never,” you admit.

You hear him move behind you and you’re sure he’s going to force you onto your back or touch you again. At the very least you expect him to send you away. He probably would prefer a more experienced girl anyways. But he doesn’t do any of these things.

Instead he comes to sit next to you. “Truth be told,” he says. “I’ve never…hired such services before either.”

“It’s not just--” You stop talking. Not only have you spoken out of turn, but you also almost divulged too much information about yourself. “Forgive me, your grace.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

This statement startles you, enough so you turn to look at him. He doesn’t look angry or annoyed. His eyes are kind and in fact, he looks a little sheepish. Maybe a touch relieved?

“What would you like me to call you, your majesty?” you ask.

“Just, ‘Ryan’ is fine,” he says. “May I ask you something?”

You’re temporarily stunned by the question. “Um…yes, I suppose.”

“Have you been with a man before?”

Your cheeks immediately turn red. “Is it that obvious?” you ask, your voice coming out in an embarrassed mumble. You stare at the floor once again, finding it difficult to keep eye contact.

His deep chuckle eases your tension a little. “I just had a hunch,” he says. He remains silent for a moment and you both sit there awkwardly, trying to look everywhere else but at each other. “Look, I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do.”

You let out a shaky breath, biting back tears. You meet his gaze again. You’re so used to anger and brutality. Given his reputation, as soon as you saw his face you prepared for the worst. Niceness is foreign to you. You don’t know what to do with nice. His calmness and acceptance is confusing. “Thank you,” you say with a slight smile.

You make a move to get up. “Where are you going?” he asks.

You immediately freeze. You instantly worry you misread the situation. “I…I was going to get dressed and leave.”

“In this weather?” Ryan asks, gesturing towards the window. It’s then that you notice the blizzard raging outside. “I won’t force you to have sex with me, but I can’t in good conscious let you out in this. Besides, I could use the company.”

“W-what would you request of me?” you ask, sinking back down onto the bed, your heart hammering in your chest as the worry you feel makes your stomach churn.

“I request only your company and maybe a friendly ear to listen,” he says. “Believe it or not, I’ve been without the company of a woman for a very long time and your presence puts me at ease.” You feel like this should be a trap of some kind, but you have always found yourself good at reading people and you can’t sense any malice or ulterior motive. He must sense your confusion because he smirks. “You seem thrown off.”

To choose your words carefully. “Your reputation precedes you, your gra--Ryan.”

He gives a dark chuckle and he rolls his eyes slightly. “So I’ve been told,” he says. “When you’re king, there are certain unpleasant actions that are required of you. I do what needs to be done to protect the kingdom.”

“Is that why you haven’t…been with someone in a long time?” you ask. It’s bold of you, but he doesn’t seem at all bothered by the question. In fact he nods.

“Somewhat,” he says. “But also because there really isn’t time for such things. Apparently Geoff thinks I need to loosen up and, well, that’s why you’re here.”

“Again, please forgive me--”

“Stop apologizing,” Ryan says sharply. “You were honest with me, and that’s something I greatly appreciate. Are you cold?”

You realize you’re sitting there in only your corset and gather up the blanket to cover yourself. Goosebumps are rising on your arms and legs and a chill from the storm outside sweeps through the room. You nod sheepishly and he moves so he’s kneeling on the bed, pulling the blankets back. “Come, lay down,” he orders. When your eyes grow wide, he quickly clarifies. “It’s warmer under the blankets. I’ll put another log on the fire and that should warm you up. Are you hungry?”

Your teeth are chattering as you slide your frozen feet under the warm, wool blankets. “Just cold,” you tell him.

He brings the blanket up to cover you completely before slipping off the bed. You watch him walk across the room to the fireplace. Now that you allow yourself to look, you have to admit that his naked body is a sight to behold, especially in the dimly lit room. You feel your cheeks flush, and you know you should avert your gaze but you don’t. You take in the site of his toned legs and the muscles of his back as he kneels by the fire and collects a few logs. You’re certainly starting to feel warmer now, but you’re not entirely sure the blankets are the reason.

When he turns back towards the bed, he catches you watching him and gives you a smirk.

You brace yourself for him to say something, something lewd or teasing, but he doesn’t. Instead he walks back the bed, stooping to pick up his discarded silk trousers. He slips them back on, tying the string firmly, and then climbs into bed next to you. Instinctively you move closer to him and his arms come around you, almost naturally. You bury yourself into the warmth of his embrace and you feel him shudder.

“You’re frozen!” he exclaims, his hand running up and down your arm to try to warm it.

You allow yourself a small giggle. “The clothing they chose for me didn’t offer much warmth,” you admit. “It’s meant to make me look good, not be practical.”

“I personally think you look better without it,” Ryan says cheekily. You blush again and give him a playful nudge. “What? I’m just being honest. You’re a very attractive woman.”

“I suppose that’s why I was chosen for you,” you say.

“May I ask you something else?” he inquires.

“Of course.”

“Why did you choose to…enter into such an arrangement?” he asks.

“There really wasn’t a choice,” you tell him, drawing back from his embrace so you can look up at him. “With the Creeper infestation this summer and my father passing, my crops weren’t as bountiful and my landlord is threatening to seize the farm. I had to do something to keep my family home.”

“Is it just you?” Ryan asks.

You nod. “I’ve lived there my whole life. I can’t just let it get taken away.” When you see the concern and empathy in his expression, you frown. “You really don’t know what’s it’s like for us out there, do you?” You never gave your king much thought before you found yourself in his private bedchambers. You assumed the poverty and misery in the local villages was ignored in favor of strengthening foreign trade. “I’m not the only one who is suffering. There are countless others like me.”

“I had no idea…” Ryan says after a moment of silence.

“Maybe you should take some time to visit your people,” you tell him, a bit of anger making it’s way into your voice. “You’d be surprised at what you find.”

The surprise on his face is enough to make you come back to your senses and you immediately pull away from him, ashamed. You’re here for company, not to lecture him on how he should treat his people. “Forgive me, that was out of line,” you say. You’re plenty warm now and you wonder how much longer he will require your presence. Suddenly the room seems too big. Too warm. Too inviting. You fear if you stay, you may get lost in his sweet words and kind eyes. That path can only lead to disappointment.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Ryan assures you, his hand coming out to touch your cheek. He turns your face towards him so you’re looking at him. “I need to know these things. Thank you for telling me.”

“Why are you being so kind to me?” you ask. The question has been on the tip of your tongue the second he realized you were uncomfortable and rolled off of you.

He chuckles. “Because you deserve kindness,” he says. “What you chose to do…did you have to sign something?”

You nod. “It’s a contract,” you say. “But it’s not binding until I’ve…until my first…” You don’t know what you should call it. Transaction? Experience?

“So, if we don’t do anything tonight,” he says carefully. “Can the contract be cancelled?”

You nod again. “It’s not valid until then,” you tell him.

He sighs and you can tell he’s trying to find the right words to say. “Then it’s a good thing we aren’t going to do anything,” he finally says. He wants to. The realization that he still wants you even after what he’s learned about you is actually a little thrilling. You feel a wave of warmth wash over you and you’re suddenly a little sad that nothing is going to be happening.

Because laying here with him, studying his handsome face by firelight and seeing those blue orbs watching you hungrily, makes you want him to touch you.

“I can live with the contract if…” you begin, but he puts a finger to your lips to stop you.

“But I can’t,” he says. “I can’t live with myself if I’m the reason why you’re bound to that place. Tomorrow morning, you can go back and demand your contract back. I will send you with a sworn statement saying nothing transpired here tonight.”

“That’s very thoughtful,” you tell him. “But there’s still the matter of my landlord. I don’t have any other skills or options, nor do I have any other source of income. If I don’t follow through with you, I will still have to for someone else otherwise I won’t get paid.”

“I’ll find you some other work,” he says immediately. “Maybe something in the court?”

You shake your head firmly. “No, I can make it on my own,” you say. “I will be alright. I can solve my own problems.”

“But your first time shouldn’t be with some sleazy, drunkard in the back room of some filthy brothel,” he insists.

“What should it be like?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

His eyes grow hooded and he pushes himself up onto one elbow so he’s leaning over you. His hand comes down to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and his fingertips gently trail along your jaw, causing you to shudder at the touch. “It should be gentle. He should take his time with you…pay attention to every detail. Like the fullness of your lips…” His thumb lightly drags down your bottom lip and you turn into the touch, pressing a soft kiss to the digit before his hand moves further down. “And the smoothness of your neck, the curve of your breast…” His hand gently cups you and it feels like fire is engulfing your body.

You gasp at the touch and he instantly freezes.

“I’m sorry,” he says, snatching his hand away as if he just realized what he was doing.

“No, don’t stop,” you urge, propping yourself up onto your elbows, bringing your face closer to his.

“I have to,” he say, his voice sounding strained. You know he doesn’t want stop either. “If I continue, I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself.”

“You won’t hurt me,” you insist. “I trust you.”

“Of course I wouldn’t hurt you,” he says. “But that’s not what I’m worried about. If I continue, you’ll be bound to your contract.”

“Not if you don’t pay,” you tell him. “I haven’t been paid for yet. Payment is collected after. The madam will be furious, but I can lie and say nothing happened.”

“But, you just told me you need the money,” he says, his forehead furrowed with worry.

“Right now, I need you more.”

Your admission sends a delightful blush across his cheeks and he ducks his head slightly to hide the small, pleased smile that makes it’s way to his lips. When he glances up at you, he raises an eyebrow and your heart thumps wildly in your chest. “Are you sure?” he asks.

You raise your hand to slide into his hair and bring his face towards yours, pressing your mouth against his in a clumsy attempt at a kiss. His hand comes up to cup your cheek and he moans into your mouth, massaging your lips so expertly, you’re almost ashamed at your inexperience. After a moment or two however you relax into the touch, slowly lowering yourself down onto your back once more as you bring him with you.

His kiss has sent a new wave of fire through you and when his hand returns to cup your breast once more, you can’t help but groan, arching into his touch. His mouth travels away from yours along your cheek and jaw before he’s kissing your neck. You turn your face away to give him better access, biting your lip in anticipation. The thing is, you don’t even know what you’re anticipating. All you know is his touch is making you feel more alive than you’ve ever felt and your body is responding to every little nibble of his teeth. His thumb delicately circles your nipple and you gasp again.

The stubble on his cheek is dragging against your flesh, but it doesn’t hurt. The feeling adds just a little something extra that you can’t quite explain.

His lips are so soft and careful, it’s driving you crazy. When his mouth closes around your other nipple, your hand tightens it’s grip on his hair, while your other hand comes up to rest next to you on the pillow. His tongue is urgent as it swirls around the stiffening peak, while his other hand kneads, strokes, _pulls_ …

“Ryan…” you gasp. He pulls back slightly but it’s only to shoot you a devious smirk. The look sends another shot of warmth through you that instantly pools between your legs. He moves his mouth to give some attention to the breast he was teasing with his hand and though you don’t know what’s coming next, you can’t help but pant. “ _More_.”

You feel his smile this time as his mouth places a few stray kisses between your breasts. He starts to move further down the bed, his lips leaving a hot, wet trail. You realize where he’s headed and you bite back another groan, letting your hand slip from his hair. He gingerly drags his teeth along your hip in a small bite. “Can I taste you?” he ask, his voice thick with arousal and promise.

The question sends another stab of desire through you and you answer without hesitating. “ _Please_.”

His rough, calloused hands are gentle as they carefully spread your legs apart while he moves further down the bed, disappearing under the thick blankets. Your chest is heaving and you press your hand to the area over your heart as you take a deep breath. The kisses he places along your inner thigh are soft and careful, as are his thumbs as he slowly spreads you apart.

When his tongue comes out to tentatively swipe against your wet mound, you suck in a deep breath. He presses his tongue flat against you in a bolder swipe and you immediately squeeze your knees together, trapping him between them.

If you thought kissing him sent fire through you, that’s nothing compared to what his mouth is doing to that spot between your legs. His tongue is exploring every bit of you can he can reach and when his thumb comes up to carefully circle your clit, you let out a shout, immediately pressing your hand to your mouth in embarrassment.

You hear him chuckle and the vibration alone makes you moan again. The blanket slips and you can see him now; his penetrating eyes are already looking up at you and he draws his mouth away briefly. His breath ghosts across your sensitive flesh and you let out a soft whine. “No need to stifle your noises,” he purrs, his tongue coming out to give you another firm lick. You whimper. “Please, I want to hear you moan.”

Then his mouth is back where you want it, his thumb stroking a little firmer now while his other hand grips your thigh firmly. You let your hands fall to his hair again and begin to move your hips along with his mouth, your brain unable to focus on anything else except the way he’s tasting you. You moan just like he’s asked you to, your body twitching. Sweat is forming on your moving bodies and the more you move against him, the bolder his licks become.

When you feel the unmistakable, gentle prod of his finger, your whole body tenses immediately against the intrusion. His thumb leaves your nub as his hand tenderly runs up your stomach, drawing soothing circles. “Just relax,” he says against you. “I’ll be delicate.”

You force your body to do as he says, because you trust him. He’s done nothing to break that trust and part of you feels like he never will. His mouth is back on you, this time his tongue circles your clit as his hand remains on your stomach, tracing soft patterns against your skin. You feel yourself instantly relax under his touch and let out a shaky breath.

He carefully works his finger into you and between his hand and his tongue, you feel yourself stretch to accommodate the intrusion. It doesn’t hurt. You were warned such ministrations would, and had prepared for it, but it’s like your body wants him there. He begins to stroke you, softly at first but the louder your noises become, the harder he presses against you until you’re rocking along with his hand and tugging on his hair, gasp, moaning, _writhing_ …

Suddenly it’s like a dam erupting as waves and waves of pleasure wash over you again and again. You don’t realize you’re chanting his name until you feel him smile against you again, the firm flicks of his tongue easing up until he places a few soft kisses to your folds before kissing his way up your thigh and along your hip again.

You can feel his erection straining against his silk pants and you tentatively press your leg against the bulge, watching his face as his eyes close briefly and he sucks in a deep breath. He pulls back to sit on his heels as he moves to untie the strings of his trousers. You find control of your body again and you sit up with him, reaching with surprisingly steady hands to help.

He gets to his knees to push the material down and you follow his lead, your mouth eager to taste his skin. You drag kisses along his neck as you reach down to circle your fingers around his manhood. His arms come around your waist. It’s his turn to gasp this time as you begin to stroke him, warily at first until he mumbles words of encouragement into your ear. You draw away from his neck, placing your forehead against his as you glance down to look at him.

If his length wasn’t enough to behold, his girth was something else entirely and you feel yourself practically _throbbing_ at the sight. He’s watching your hand as well, his fingers digging into your hips when you tighten your grip, growing more confident with every flick of your wrist. His mouth is suddenly seeking yours and you meet his kiss eagerly, pulling him down with you once more. His pants are still around his knees and he falls against you a little harder than he intends, sending you both into a fit of giggles and hushed apologies.

He rolls off you slightly, breaking your hold on his cock so he can kick his pants away impatiently.

But then he’s back, his body covering yours. This time you aren’t scared. This time you aren’t hesitant or nervous. This time you’re excited, and ready, and so very willing…

He reaches down to take hold of himself and you spread your legs eagerly. “If I hurt you, please say something,” he pleads softly. There’s no need to whisper, but for some reason it seems like the appropriate way to speak in such a situation. “I’ll stop and we can warm you up some more.”

“Oh, I think I’m plenty warm,” you assure him, your hands running up his back. You teasingly press your nails into his flesh and bring your hips up so the tip of his cock rubs against your slick entrance. He makes a noise in the back of his throat that could only be described as a desperate whimper.

“Temptress,” he growls before capturing your lips once more.

When the tip of his cock firmly pushes into you, you gasp loudly. He swallows the sound hungrily, his hand moving to grip your thigh again as he slowly eases into you with small, careful pumps of his hips. It doesn’t hurt. It burns slightly, as your body is not accustomed to being filled, especially by such a girth. But he is mindful and waits for your walls to loosen around him before pressing in any further.

By the time he’s buried to the hilt inside of you, your legs are wrapped firmly around his waist and you’re trembling again. But this time it’s with need and urgency. He draws out almost completely before he surges back into you and you cling to him with a loud moan. He repeats the action again, this time pressing his pelvis right against yours. You groan again and blindly seek his lips in a desperate kiss.

His thrusts are deliberate and precise, especially since he knows you’re not in pain. Far from it. Your whole body is practically singing and you begin to meet his thrusts with sloppy and urgent movements of your own. His hand is still gripping your thigh and he’s holding you so close to his own body it stirs something deep inside of you.

You both fall into a steady rhythm eventually, mouths tasting each other’s as your bodies move as one unit. You’re never felt so full and complete in your life and you cling to him desperately, wanting to tell him these things but not having the voice to do so.

His movements grow faster, his blunt nails digging into your thigh as he tries to control himself. He’s still worried about hurting you, but you can sense his completion is near and you don’t want him to hold back.

“Let go,” you gasp against his mouth. “Come for me.”

It’s his turn to moan longingly, the unexpected forcefulness of your voice seemingly undoing him as he pumps into you wildly, chasing his approaching orgasm with a fevered frenzy. The noises coming from both of you can barely be classified as human as something primal seems to awaken between the both of you and you move against each other, each desperately trying to reach your glorious end.

And it is glorious.

His hips slam against yours as he comes with a whispered, “ _Fuck!_ ” followed by a deep grunt.

You’re chanting his name again, sparks shooting through your body so quickly and violently that you barely can register what’s happening around you, say for his mouth on your throat and his cock pulsing as he empties himself inside of you.

Your chest is heaving again and so is his. Your bodies are covered with sweat and his mouth finds yours in an awkward and careless kiss. But it’s still the best kiss of them all.

Your legs drop from his waist and he carefully puts his weight on his knees as he tries to steady his violently shaking body. He draws away and his eyes are searching yours, whether for pain or something else you’re not quite sure and frankly you don’t even care. You reach up to place your hand against his cheek and he instinctively turns into it, placing a soft kiss on your palm. “Are you well?” he asks.

You give a giddy chuckle. “Oh I’m more than well,” you tell him.

He grins sheepishly and carefully eases out of you. You realize then how incredibly sore you are and can’t help but wince. He notices and then suddenly he’s not above you anymore. You shiver as your sweat begins to cool and the loss of his body heat makes your goosebumps return. But then he’s back with a warm, wet cloth from a basin in the corner of the room. He returns to his place on the bed next to you and delicately wipes the mess from between your legs.

After, he cleans himself and then throws the cloth over the edge of the bed and onto the floor. He draws the comforter up over both of you and you turn to lay on your side. He curls against your back, his arm coming around your waist to pull you against his chest. His stubble drags against your shoulder before he places a kiss there.

You have no idea what the next day holds for you, or what happens after this.

But curled against the King’s chest, you feel warm, satisfied and safe. “Thank you,” you mumble, sleep tugging at you so fiercely you can barely keep your eyes open.

“For what?”

“Take your pick,” you say with a sleepy chuckle. “For not forcing me, for listening to me, for caring…for both orgasms.”

He chuckles back and you can hear the sleep in his voice as well. “You’re welcome.”

He tightens his hold around you and you both drift off to sleep.  


	2. Chapter 2

The madam is furious, you can tell.

But once you hand her the neatly rolled scroll that holds the King’s statement and signature, her mouth draws into a straight line and she shuts up. She wants to question you. Clearly she doesn’t believe the statement. However, it’s the King’s word against hers and she has no choice but to hand over your contract.

You clutch it tightly all the way back to your farm. Your body is screaming from the soreness. It was completely worth it. Waking up in his arms made you feel light as air, especially when he dragged his eyes open and gave you a lazy half-smile before placing a few kisses to your shoulder. You miss him already. He had been so kind, so considerate. He could have easily taken advantage of you, as many others would have done in his position. But he didn’t.

Instead he made you feel special. Beautiful even.

Your smile fades as your eyes fall on your rundown home. You still don’t know what you’re going to do about the farm. If you could even call it that. It was very small, say for a few animals and a plot of land for your crops. Maybe you’ll offer maid services to your landlord or some of the higher class villagers. Last time you tried you were turned away, but there’s no harm in trying again. You never know.

You unlock your home and set to work starting a fire in the hearth. King Ryan had insisted you take a few coins for traveling purposes, or at the very least for food and firewood. You had stopped by the local mercantile after collecting your contract and bought the essentials you were severely lacking.

You wish other people could see this kind side of him, but truth be told, you like the fact that you’re the only one. It’s something you two share in the secret of his bedchambers.

Once the fire is going, you throw your contract on top of it and watch as it burns away.

You feel calm and at peace for the first time in years. Part of you wishes you could see the king again, but considering you're a peasant and he’s the ruler of the land, you doubt that’s going to happen. You have no illusions otherwise.

Though the muscles of your thighs and legs are screaming, and the trip back has taken a lot out of you, there are chores to be done. You go about tending to your animals. They have survived the harsh blizzard and the coin Ryan gave you was not only enough to buy yourself food, but food for your animals as well. You give them the fresh grain as you hum and clean out their stalls. They need fresh water, so you grab a bucket and head to the well in the center of town.

You greet your neighbors with a cheerful smile, and they return your politeness with queer looks. They aren’t used to being greeted by you, especially not so cheerfully. As you begin to draw your full bucket of water up from the well, your thoughts wander back to the previous night and how he ran that warm wash cloth between your legs as he took the time to make sure you were clean and comfortable before settling back next to you.

You realize you’re staring off into space and give yourself a little shake to return to your senses.

You hoist the full bucket off the hook and head back to your farm. Once the animals are taken care of, you retire back to your home with the rest of the water and set about bathing and fixing yourself dinner. It’s strange to believe that almost twenty-four hours ago you were getting dressed in the brothel, your stomach twisting and turning with knots and anxiety.

Now, you’re relaxed and content.

Later that night, when you climb up to the loft where your bed is, your stomach is full and your body is too exhausted to do much else. You ease your sore frame onto your lumpy mattress, scrunching your nose as you try to get comfortable. You miss his soft bed and warm sheets. You lay on your back for some time, staring at the planks of the wood ceiling. It’s late. He’s probably retired to his chambers by now.

Is he laying just like you are?

Is he wondering what you’re up to? Is he wondering if you’re thinking of him?

Probably not. But it’s nice to pretend, at least for a little while. Tomorrow will be a long and tiring day. You’ll be taking a trek to the next town to try and find work, something you’re not looking forward to. On the way you plan to drop off the rest of your coin to your landlord, which should hopefully buy you another month on the farm until you can come up with a new solution.

You let your mind wander and think of what could be if your situation was different. If you had noble blood, you would probably be able to court the king. He seemed to enjoy your company as much as you enjoyed his. You drift off to sleep with a smile on your face.

Your dreams are filled with touches and whispered words as your mind replays moments from that night over and over again.

You awake aching, but it’s more for his touch than anything else.

The pale light of morning is streaming in through the small windows and you can hear the sounds of your neighbors waking for their morning chores. You lay there for a few moments, trying to hold onto the memory of his warm bedchamber and soft mouth. But reality is stronger and the memory is starting to fade.

There’s suddenly a loud commotion outside and you get to your feet, throwing on a cloak over your cotton dress. You climb down from your loft hurriedly and slip on a pair of thick work boots.

Outside, your neighbors are running to their homes, shouting and hurriedly trying to make themselves look presentable. Before you can call to one to ask what’s going on, you hear the sound of hooves and you see the King’s guard gallop into the town square. Knight-Commander Geoff leads the charge, while Lords Gavin and Michael flank him. Behind the three, there’s no mistaking the King as he sits atop his beautiful stead, his back straight and head held high. His golden crown still manages to shine in the weak light of the morning.

Seeing him here in your village is a shock and you immediately slam the door shut. You take a few seconds to process what’s happening before you run to the nearest reflective service and try to make yourself look presentable. Unfortunately, you don’t have any better clothing to change into, so you wash your face and rinse out your mouth before running a wide comb through your sleep-mussed hair.

By the time you step outside again, the King has dismounted and is speaking with some of the villagers who bravely attempted to greet him.

He’s never visited the villages before. You realize suddenly that he’s taking your advice. He’s come to see his kingdom and the thought makes you smile softly. The tension in the air is thick, however when it’s clear the King is not there for any malicious reasons, it begins to fade. More and more villagers come out of their homes to greet him. You notice the rest of his guard arrive with grain, blankets, fresh water, vegetables, meats…

You watch from your porch, leaning lightly on the banister as he goes from house-to-house, spending painstaking minutes talking to each and every person he meets, shaking hands and giving them his stunning smile.

He must feel someone watching him because he glances around and that’s when his eyes meet yours. At first he doesn’t recognize you. You can tell by the questioning tilt of his head. You offer him a small smile and a little wave, and his cheeks flush, his smile widening. You can see him make a step in your direction, but he remembers himself and stops, breaking eye contact with you so he can listen to what your neighbor is saying.

By the time he reaches your home, he’s already met with half the village. He takes a few steps up your walkway and you move to meet him, bowing down in a formal curtsy. “Your grace,” you say, ducking your head. He offers you a small bow back.

“My lady.”

The way he says it makes you blush and you nervously tuck your hair behind your ear. “It’s a pleasure to see you aga--my lord.” You almost say “again” but remember yourself just in time. Your eyes slide to meet the Knight-Commander’s and you know that he recognizes you, if his smirk is any indication. He was the one who came to the brothel to pick you out. You look away from him in favor of staring at the King.

“Is this your farm?” King Ryan asks, gesturing to your home. You nod somewhat embarrassed at the small plot of land. “Would you kindly show me around?”

There really isn’t much to see, but you humor him. After showing him the animal pens and the small area where you plant your crops in the spring, you invite him inside your house. He accepts the offer at once and orders his men to wait on the porch. As soon as he closes the door behind him, all formalities are gone as he grabs your hands and pulls you towards him, pressing his lips against yours in a firm and urgent kiss.

You return his kiss eagerly, your arms coming up to wrap themselves around his neck as his snake around your waist. His tongue is sweet and curious as it explores your accepting mouth hungrily. You let out a quiet whimper, your fingers coming up to play with the curls at the base of his neck.

When you pull back to breathe, his eyes are sparkling. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” you admit, your cheeks flushing harder. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to speak with the villagers like you suggested,” he says. “After what we talked about, I needed to see it for myself. Also, I may or may not have learned you live in this area.”

“You came to see me?” you ask, unable to keep the shock from your voice.

“I came to ask you to meet me tonight,” he says. His hand comes away from your waist so he can trail his fingers gently down your cheek. “I’ve been able to think about little else but our time together. If you’re willing, I would love to do it again.”

“I’d love that,” you tell him. “But…”

The King frowns. “But what?”

“Should you be wasting your time with me?” you ask tentatively. “You’re the king. You should be with someone more…suitable.”

“As opposed to…?”

You step away from his embrace to gesture to the sad, dark room around you. “This.”

Ryan takes a look around before his eyes meet yours again. He takes your hands in his once more. “What I need is a strong, capable, honest woman by my side. And that’s exactly who I’m looking at right now.”

You stare at the floor, feeling your face turn, if it’s possible, even redder than before. There’s an impatient knock on the door and you hear the Knight-Commander’s voice. “My king, we have a schedule we need to maintain if you are to be back at court by midday.”

Ryan gives a noise of annoyance and shoots a glare at the door. He turns back to look at you and you give him a small smile. You know he has duties. As much as you want him to just stay here with you, you know that’s not even remotely possible. He releases your hands and turns towards the door, yanking it open.

Geoff is standing there with a box of supplies, just like the other villagers have gotten. The King takes it from him and turns to place it in your hands. “There’s something for you at the bottom,” he says in a hushed whisper so only you can hear. “Say you’ll meet me tonight?”

You give him another small smile and nod, bowing your head and giving an awkward curtsy as the heavy box makes you sway. “Thank you, your grace.”

“My lady,” King Ryan says with his charming grin, giving you a short bow before he turns and leaves with a sweep of his cloak. The Knight-Commander stares at you for a moment and you shift uncomfortably.

“Seems you made an impression on the King,” he says gruffly.

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer before he slams the door shut. You stand rooted in place for a few moments, before the weight of the crate in your arms brings you back to reality. Carefully you place the box on the floor and kneel down next to it, removing the food, jug of water and blankets until you reach the bottom. Folded neatly is a beautiful, silk gown of deep purple. It feels like water moving through your fingers as you gingerly pick it up. Underneath is a thick cloak with a fur collar and a pair of sturdy shoes. The cloak feels warm and you shrug out of your patchy cloak to put on this beautiful one.

It’s not only heavenly warm, but it smells like him. You can’t help but feel giddy as you get to your feet. If you’re going to have another date with the King, you need to make yourself presentable.

\--

This time when you’re lead to the King’s quarters, it’s very different. Before you were ushered in hurriedly, forced to take many back hallways and side doors to avoid being seen. This time, the letter the Mad King sent with your dress offers you a more direct route. You expect whispers or wandering eyes as you pass, but the servants pay you no mind. Most don’t even seem to recognize you from the night before or even care about your presence.  

Just like the other night, the King is not there when you’re lead inside his chambers. You are offered wine and some food, but you’re not hungry so you politely decline. You gingerly remove your shoes and set them by the fireplace to dry before you go to stand by the window again, this time a smile on your face as you look out at the peacefully falling snow. You notice the room is much warmer; he made sure the fire was nice and hot and the realization has you smiling giddily.

You hear footsteps outside the door and turn expectedly, adjusting your cloak and the silk dress underneath. The thick wool and fur collar was perfect against the harsh winds and falling snow outside.

“I think it’s time to retire, Geoff,” Ryan’s voice says. “Can you make sure I’m not disturbed for the rest of the night?”

“Permission to speak freely, your grace?” Geoff asks.

“Geoff, you’ve never needed permission before,” King Ryan says with a hint of a laugh.

Geoff is silent for a moment and you can only picture his face. Your smile fades and a sense of dread washes over you. You know what’s coming next, you can just sense it.

“You know, when I got you the girl for your birthday, you were supposed to just have fun,” Geoff says. “You weren’t supposed to start courting the whore.”

“She is not a whore,” King Ryan immediately snaps, his harshness spitting out at Geoff like the crack of a whip. “There is no contract for her at the brothel, at least not anymore.”

“How convenient,” Geoff says. “I found her at the brothel, picked her because I thought she was pretty and could do you some good. What tales did she spin? Virgin? Poor peasant? Both? I know you went to the village to see her again.”

You feel your anger start to boil and you bite your tongue, turning back to the windowsill so you don’t have to face the door.

“Geoff, what happens between me and her is none of your concern. I am the King and I can court whomever I chose.” King Ryan says, his tone steady but with an edge to it. The Knight-Commander has overstepped, and the King is clearly not pleased. You imagine if they hadn’t known each other for so long, the Knight-Commander might find himself in a dangerous situation.

“You’re right, you’re right,” Geoff says instantly. “I’m just looking out for you. I don’t want to see you hurt or taken advantage of.”

“Do you think I’m so easily fooled?”

“A pretty woman can fool anyone,” Geoff says. “Just be careful.”

He doesn’t wait until Geoff leaves this time before he barrels in through the door. You spin around to face him and his gaze is full of anger. But it’s not aimed towards you. He doesn’t even spare you a look as he paces, taking off his cloak angrily and letting it fall to the floor. He takes the crown off and practically tosses it onto the dresser, instead of placing it on the pillow like he did previously.

You stand stock still, your hands clasped together as you fidget nervously.

Geoff is right. The King should be with someone of noble blood, not a poor, peasant farmer who somehow stumbled into his bed. You told him as such earlier, and now you feel foolish for thinking otherwise. “Your grace?” you ask hesitantly.

He turns to face you and his angry expression melts away, his eyes softening as soon as he sees that you’re wearing the clothes he gave you. “You look beautiful.”

You want to smile and thank him for his compliment, but the words turn to ash in your mouth and all you can manage is a weak half-smile. “I should go,” you say softly, pulling your cloak tighter around yourself. You make a move towards the fireplace so you can collect your shoes.  

“What, why?” King Ryan asks sharply, following your movements. You don’t answer him, but when you glance over your shoulder at him, your gaze says it all. “Is it because what Geoff said?”

“He’s right,” you tell him. “You shouldn’t be wasting your time with me.”

“Spending time with you isn’t a waste,” he urges, taking a few more steps to come to you. “The other night was the best I’ve had in a long time. I enjoy spending time with you. I want it to continue.” You turn to face him and he grasps your hands in a desperate attempt to keep you from moving away from him.

“I don’t know if I can,” you tell him honestly, pulling your hands away. “I want to. I really want to. But, are we kidding ourselves? I’m not good enough to--”

“Don’t ever say that!” Ryan snaps, taking your face carefully between his hands. “You’re amazing. I want to spend more time with you. I want to learn more about you. I don’t care what Geoff or anyone else has to say about it.”

His kiss is hard and needy, and it instantly makes your knees buckle. One arm comes firmly around your waist to hold you up. When you draw back to gasp for breath, his hand remains on your cheek. “What do you want?” he asks.

“I want to stay with you,” you tell him instantly, because it’s the one thing you want more than anything in the world.

“Then stay,” King Ryan urges.

The words are tumbling from your lips before you can stop them. “Make me.”

He raises his eyebrow with a smirk and immediately sweeps you off your feet, carrying you towards the large bed. “Be careful,” he purrs, laying you down in the center before climbing off to begin removing his clothing. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

“I know exactly what I’m telling you,” you say with a smirk of your own, sitting up and unfastening the cloak from around your shoulders. You toss it to the side and it slides off the bed.

“Telling?” the King inquires, his smirk widening. “Is that so? You think you can tell the King what to do?”

“Well,” you say, getting onto your knees. You slide the straps of the silk dress off your shoulders and it slithers down your frame to pool around you. “I can certainly try.”

Ryan is down to only his tunic and pants and he pauses to take in your naked frame. His eyes darken with lust and he impatiently yanks his shirt up over his head, letting it fall to the floor carelessly. “What would you ask of me?” he inquires.

“Take me,” you order huskily. You lean forward on the bed so your hands are resting on the soft surface, your breasts bared to him.

“How?”

“However you want.”

King Ryan pushes his pants down and practically dives for you, letting out a guttural growl as he does. You anticipate his rough hands as you sit back on your heels, wrapping your arms around him as soon as he collides against you, his mouth crushing yours in a painful and claiming kiss. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he groans when he pulls away, mouth moving to attack your neck.

“I can take it,” you insist. You want him to ravage you. You want him to claim every inch of your body until you’re trembling and begging him for release. You want him to know that you are his and only his.

His mouth finds yours once more and he pushes you onto your back, his body looming over you. Without a word he pulls away and grabs the dress still tangled around your legs, dragging it off of you. You expect him to throw it to the side, but instead he wraps the thin material around one of your wrists before yanking both up over your head and pinning them down to the bed. “Are you sure?” he asks, his eyes filled with fire and excitement.

You feel your body immediately respond as the wetness begins to spread between your legs. “I trust you,” you tell him.

“How much do you trust me?” Ryan asks, wrapping the dress around a part of the massive headboard before tying the other end around your free wrist.

You feel a wave of heat immediately wash over your body and you bite back a whimper. “I trust you with my life.”

He gives you an impish smile. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says in his commanding voice. “I’m going to devour every inch of you, and then I’m going to take you until you can’t remember your name.”

“ _Yes!_ ” you say pleadingly.

He gives a low chuckle and runs his firm hands down your arms and to your chest, roughly cupping your breasts. “You’re mine now,” he says possessively. His hands move down to seize your hips and he yanks you towards him so you’re stretched out in the middle of the bed. “But if it’s too much, tell me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you say instantly. “I’m not made of glass. You don’t have to treat me so delicately.”

King Ryan shoves your legs apart and his grin widens into a mischievous and pleased smile. “Good. Because I don’t intend to. Not tonight.”

“Promises, promises,” you say cheekily.

His hand suddenly comes up to fist in your hair and he pushes your head back so your throat is fully exposed. Leaning down he gives you a harsh bite, enough to make you jerk against him and cry out. He immediately soothes the area with his gentle tongue. “Keep talking and I will have to gag you.”

Words immediately fail you and you bite your lip in anticipation. This. This was the Mad King you expected. This claiming, feral man who is about to make you his. You flex your fingers against the binds before gripping the silk cloth tightly. When he’s satisfied you’re going to go along with his little game he draws away and moves down your body, leaving a trail of love bites and wet kisses.

He doesn’t hesitate or pause for your approval this time. Instead his mouth immediately latches onto your wet mound and you let out a cry of pleasured surprise. He chuckles at your reaction, before his mouth and tongue work you mercilessly. You twitch and jerk your hips with every lick, nibble, stroke…

First his tongue is inside of you and then it’s circling your clit, then he’s lapping at you hungrily and his finger is sliding into you. Your body has had enough time to recuperate from the first time and you’re not as sore as you expect to be. He crooks his finger just so and he suddenly presses against a spot inside of you that makes you quake and wrap your legs around him. Every stroke is directed at that spot and you’re soon crying out repeatedly, your body drenched in sweat.

You can feel your orgasm fast approaching and you move against him quickly, trying to reach it.

All of a sudden, he stops and pulls away.

You give a desperate cry of frustration and he gives you a low laugh. “I wish you could see what I’m seeing,” he croaks, his voice deliciously hoarse. “You’re so flush and worked up…” His hands move up to cup your breasts again and pinches your nipples roughly before gently soothing the sensitive flesh with his thumbs. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Please…” you whisper, tears welling in your eyes. Your body is so tightly wound already, you want nothing more than for him to plunge into you and bring you over that edge you were just so close to.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” King Ryan asks before leaning down to capture your nipple between his lips.

“P-Please…more, p-please,” you beg.

He doesn’t respond. Instead he draws back and takes your hips in his hands once more. The next thing you know he’s rolling you onto your front and bringing your hips up so you’re on your knees, your top half still pressed to the bed. Your arms are crossed over each other now, but you’re too busy arching your back and presenting yourself to Ryan to notice the discomfort.

He runs his hand down the dip of your spine and to your shoulder as he nudges your knees apart. You can feel the bed tremor slightly and you look down between your body and the bed to see him stroking himself at the sight of you bent over. You groan and try to move back a little more so you can feel him, but your bindings don’t allow it.

At first you don’t think he notices, but then you feel a hard slap against your backside and you pitch forward with a yelp.

“I saw that,” he purrs, gently massaging the area he just slapped. The area stings slightly, but his touch is soothing.

He’s suddenly pushing into you and you moan, pushing backwards so you take him in completely. He pulls out and gives you another slap, causing you to whimper. “Patience,” he orders. He starts to ease into you again, and it takes all your willpower to remain completely still. He eases in and out of you a few times before he buries himself so deeply you can feel his pelvis pressing against your backside.

Your fingers are digging into your bindings and you want to to move _so bad…_

But then he begins to move and you lose all focus. His thrusts are not gentle by any means. They are deep, rough, quick thrusts and have you moving along with him each time he slams back in. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips as he repeatedly brings you crashing backwards onto his throbbing manhood. You can’t hold back anymore and rock along with him, moaning, grunting, screaming his name _again and again_.

He gives your backside another hard slap, but this time it’s for the hell of it because you realize he’s also too far gone to care about anything else but your walls squeezing him. Your orgasm from earlier is building again and you wish your hands were free so you could touch yourself. You need to come. If you don’t your body won’t be able to take much more.

You realize you’re begging him for your release and he obliges, his hand coming between your legs to rub furiously at your over sensitive nub. His other hand grips your shoulder tightly as his thrusts become short and frenzied.

The whole world suddenly goes black before stars burst before your eyes, your orgasm finally, _finally_ overtaking you, so powerful that it’s all too much…

His chest is suddenly pressed against your back and the hand on your shoulder moves to your hair, taking a fist full and jerking your head to the side so he can bite down on your neck as he comes, violently spilling himself into you so much so that you feel it run down between your legs and onto the bed.

You can’t hold yourself up anymore and with his weight pressed against you, you both fall forward in a tangle of sweaty limbs.

Your body is shaking violently and you can’t catch your breath for a moment. He seems to be having the same problem as he tries to roll off of you and fails on the first attempt.

When you finally come back to yourself, he’s carefully undoing the bindings around your wrists. Once you’re free, you roll onto your back, an action that causes your body to scream in protest. Ryan takes your hands in his and gently begins to massage them, getting the blood flowing again. He presses soft kisses to the bruises starting to form. “Did I hurt you?”

You can’t even speak. You just shake your head no and give him the widest smile you can manage. He smiles back before giving you a soft and tender kiss.

Just like the other night, he gets off the bed and brings a warm wash cloth. He takes his time cleaning you, making sure that every inch of your skin is taken care of before taking care of himself. As soon as he lays next to you, you curl across his chest, his arms pulling you close before he drags the comforter up over you.

“I went to see your landlord yesterday,” he says after a long moment of silence. You glance up at him questioningly. “The farm is all yours.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you tell him.

“The price was the same as a dowry so it worked out well,” he says.

Your heart races and you give him a questioning look. “Dowry?”

“I told you I want you. Only you. I have been alone for far too long and if we’re going to continue, I want you to know that this isn’t just a fling for me. I want to do right by you,” the King says. “That’s if…if you feel the same. There’s no rush. I’m perfectly fine with taking time to--”

You don’t let him finish before you’re straddling his waist, your mouth pressing against his in an excited and giddy kiss. You feel him smile against you and his hand comes up to gently cradle the back of your head. When you draw back slightly, his eyes open to meet yours. They are filled with excitement. “So…yes, then?”

You giggle. “Yes,” you tell him.

He lets out an excited laugh before rolling you onto your back again. “Just think, we can do this every night if we want to.”

The thought is enough to send a shudder of longing through you, if your body was functional enough to do so. “In the interest of being able to walk properly again, we may want to tone it down.”

Ryan laughs again. “If you say so.” He brushes his lips across your forehead in a soft kiss before shifting to get comfortable. You curl against his chest and listen to the sound of his heart beat, allowing the steady and increasingly familiar sound lull you into a peaceful sleep.   


End file.
